The Fallout
by Strategicllamas
Summary: Bella and Edward meet one fateful morning in LA; him Bella's favorite successful actor, her just a college student trying to get by with a flimsy career in modeling. Prepare for sacrificial chinchillas, unexpected stalkers, indoor baseball, and Edward's weird friends. Prepare for love. In all the wrong places. Bella x Edward AU


I jerked my hips to the right, then the left. Right, left. Right, left. The ball fell into an easy coordination with the rest of my body, snapping back into my palm like an obedient yo-yo under it's master's careful scrutiny. The only thing between me and that basket was cracked pavement and wasted breath. I bounded in for the layup.

Los Angeles's sun was hot and lively today, dampening my workout clothes in sweat. I'd tell you it was only the heat getting me sweaty, but in reality, I was just putting way too much effort into my daily exercise. Well, I didn't wake up at eight in the morning for nothing, did I? _8 o'clock. Am. _I thought proudly, for the hundredth time that day. I couldn't help it. Convincing myself to wake up at all past 10 in the morning at least was an accomplishment in itself. But I was actually _exercising_, too! I smiled breathlessly as the ball shimmied out of the net and back into my hands again. I let it glide through my legs as I swerved back around to the foul line, when I caught a guy watching me out of the corner of my eye.

Except this wasn't just _any_ guy. I noticed that right away, but continued as if I hadn't seen him at all.

Right, left. Right, left. I was practically assaulting the ball, pounding it into the pavement with as much strength as I could muster. I was rewarded with a throbbing tension in my arm, the kind you truly appreciate later when your arms actually fit into some fashion designer's tight-fitting, makeshift clothes.

"Lend me the ball?" A musical voice called out. I twirled around on my heel, to see him on the court with me now. Whoa. It's really him; _the_ Edward Cullen. I shrug and toss it, like movie stars ask me to lend them my balls all the time. On the inside, I'm shaking like a rabid chihuahua. Actually, on the inside, I _am_ a chihuahua. The real deal. Whimpering and barking and peeing all over the place.

His hair was an untamed, flawless shade of bronze, moving with the rest of his body as he swayed back and forth with the ball. He had a strong jaw, and his signature striking, green eyes. Every detail of his face was completely and utterly beautiful. I forced my eyes back onto the ball, and stood back, crossing my arms. I would _not _be obnoxious about meeting my favorite actor of all time. He probably got so tired of that.

He took a shot, and the ball kissed the rim, falling flat on the concrete. Cullen's face fell, and I laughed, secretly marveling in the way it still looked so profusely beautiful.

"Way to go," I said. He jutted out his chin, and rolled his shoulders in determination.

"Hold up, girl," he said under his breath, snatching the ball up and jogging to the middle of the court. From there, he hurled the ball, and it landed exactly in its destination. "What now?" He called out in his velvet voice, thumping his chest in pride. I scowl playfully and chase after my ball.

"You're just lucky because this is a girl ball," I tease as I jog up to take his place in the middle of the court.

"Not true," He relented at once, putting one hand on his hip, "I could take anyone, any day." I go to take his place on the court, to prove myself, but he folds his arms across his chest and stays put. "Stubborn little moviestar," I say under my breath, trying to ignore the way my body reacts next to his, and set myself up right behind him. My hands feel around for the perfect throwing position, and I'm about to take off, when he turns around. Right there. His face, like, three inches away from mine. I take an involuntary breath and falter slightly. He smells so good.

"Do you mind if I court you?" his full, pouty lips prodded in question. I was taken aback a moment, staring at them. I snapped back up at his eyes, remembering not to be _that _kind of girl. He was probably a tease. And besides, he likely didn't mean to be as seductive as he was coming off.

"Court me, huh?" I thrust the ball into his stomach, and his eyes widen in surprise. "Sure. I'm down for a little one-on-one."

I stalk off to one side of the court, and get into a defensive stance while he just stands there, his face all astounded-like. I'll admit I was a little smug about being the one that put it there.

He shakes his head in disbelief. "You're on then, I guess," He said, and launched to the right.

I probably got a little lost in my element. What can I say? You don't get anywhere as a model without earning a little muscle. And I've dedicated myself to one sport to take care of that. You can't expect me _not_ to be fairly passionate about it as a result.

Even in my element, he was so fast and agile, I was heaving by the time I managed to make a single basket next to his three.

"Can we just call it a tie?" he eventually said in defeat, to my utter and utmost relief. Somehow, I had managed to slink past his firm, rock of a body and dunk a few. I didn't bother telling him that I had actually won, making at _least _four baskets. It felt like my lungs had caught fire. That was the most challenging game of my life, to be honest. I simply nodded my head, and dragged myself over to the grass that was shaded by a few selective trees in the distance, and collapsed on my ass like the classy girl that I am. He joined me, seeming just as worn out, I noted with relief. I tossed my head back and chugged my water down, damning the whole institution of first impressions straight to hell. I threw my chances of getting in Edward Cullen's good graces the second I dived in to block his throw and he saw my armpit stains. I tried to convince myself that I could care less, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a touch embarrassed about it. I noticed him staring at me, and offered him my water. He took it with a sigh of contentment. _It's an indirect kiss!_ My inner teenager squeeled. No, wait, 19 still counted as a teenager. Maybe that was my inner chihuahua. _  
_

"You really put up a good fight," he said after a while, when our breathing had died down. He rocked my water bottle back and forth in his hand, watching the liquid sway.

"When I'm not tripping over my own two left feet, yes, I can put up quite a good fight," I muttered to myself. He picked it up, and stared at me in astonishment.

"Are you seriously saying you're one of those clumsy types of people?" he said with a sort of hysteria in his voice, "Because, honestly, today was the first time I really doubted my basketball abilities in the presence of a female." He seemed utterly horrified conveying this. I wasn't sure if he was accusing me of playing something up, or just attempting to compliment me. I just stared at his flustered face, and began laughing. He scrunched up his nose in a rather adorable response. I was tempted to tweak it.

"No, no." I managed through my laughter, which was already subsiding as I tried to equip an answer. "I actually am one of those clumsy people, no lie. I just...adjusted to basketball, basically. I was hoping it might improve my lack of balance, since that's kind of looked down upon at my workplace." I sighed now, adjusting my arms so that they hoisted me up from behind, and glared into the sun. "Throw me a volleyball or slap a bat in my hands, and, well, prepare for the wrath of satan."

He laughed, an alluring, velvety sound that resounded off of the trees and grass. I smiled up into the branches, afraid that I'd look too long if I caught him smiling. It was hard enough when he flashed that gorgeous, crooked grin on my TV screen. I would melt if I saw it in real life, within this proximity.

"No kidding, then? What is this balance-required field of work that you're tangling your limbs for?"

"...Modeling." I said, thinking about my low-income, modeling debut. I glanced over at him, suddenly fascinated and excited, it seemed.

"Really? Interesting. I might know the company," he hinted casually. I flushed, feeling like a failure next to this beautiful, successful man that I somehow managed to beat in a game of ultra-sweaty basketball. I suddenly wondered how the hell I was talking so casually with him. Like we were old friends, or I was his old basketball arch-nemesis. He didn't even know my name.

"Naaah, you don't know the company," I hinted back with a cringe.

"I might," he relented, not getting it.

"I'm pretty sure you don't."

"Just tell me."

I ducked my head, trying to hide the sudden redness returning to my cheeks. He slid himself closer beside me, lowering his head on my level. "Just tell me," he repeated, softly, like he was persuading a child. I lifted my head hesitantly, feeling his body heat radiating onto mine and being physically unable to remove my eyes from his once they landed there. So green.

Was it like this during the match?

"It's not really much of a company, It's just a sort of agency Shuckley put together for fashion artists to come together and experiment," I sputtered out in a rush. "I'm not really modeling material. In fact, the only thing I like about my job are the people I get to spend the day with, but the actual process of putting on alien clothes and posing in front of a bunch of really talented people is freaking _terrifying,_ you know?" I took a deep breath, but I wasn't quite done yet. He looked amused, and since he still hadn't backed away from me, I kept going. "The guy in charge of everything scouted me out at Denny's on a Friday night, where apparently I had just come back from a party down the street all drunk or something, so he asks me if I need a ride and then before you know it, I'm giving his car a lap dance and he's calling the cops, but-" Edward placed his fingers against my lips as he began shaking with laughter. I didn't know what was so funny; this was some serious business. But I was relieved nevertheless, even though his damn finger was making my lips tremble. You can beat me up for the cliche later, but I swear there was this electric current flowing between us. He took his finger back, and my skin burned where his last touched mine. It was definitely not like this during the match.

"It's okay," he gasped out between his laughter. God, that was a nice sound.

When he had finally calmed down a little, we stared at eachother for a while, neither of us breaking the contact.

"What's your name?" he asked me, a smile still tugging at the ends of his mouth.

"Bella. And yours?" I asked without thinking. He snorted, and broke the contact by looking off into the trees. We were side by side now, his left torso touching mine in the most casual way possible. Except there was nothing casual about how my body was reacting around his. It kept startling me the way I couldn't get over it.

"Are you just asking to be polite, or...?" He raised an eyebrow, and looked back at me. I laughed, praying to god that he wouldn't notice how it was a little off.

"Sorry, it just came out. Sort of like some other things I said..." I trailed off, suddenly horrified by the crap I had just told this beautiful creature beside me. "Shit," I whispered to myself, and he laughed again.

"Well, in case you didn't realize, I _am _Edward Cullen." He said, observing my reaction. There wasn't one; I already dealt with my own internal breakdown the second I saw him that day.

"Hand me my water," I said. He shook his head in disbelief, reaching for it in the grass and tossing it over to me. I took a swig at it when it landed in my lap.

"So do you know who I am or are you just trying to play it cool?" He said, still watching me. I wiped at my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

"I own almost every movie with your face on it," I admitted, feigning blush. He looked pleased with that. Cocky little movie star.

"Excellent," he said, and I was really blushing now. He smiled even wider, that heart-stopping, crooked grin.

From there we talked about...everything, pretty much. He told me about his acting career, and all the famous people he got to work with on set. I tried to act cool about it when he started talking about pulling pranks on Jasper Whitlock, but honestly, I was having a freakin heart attack. Can you really blame me? I had just as many movies with this guy's face on them as Edward. He was my childhood crush.

I told him about how my modeling job was only a sad way of paying for college tuition, and that I wasn't really passionate about it at all. He was surprised to find that I was majoring in science, for cell and molecular biology. I admitted I wasn't too passionate about that, either. We went on to discuss our hopes and dreams, which he filled me in on mostly. I told him about the apartment I lived in, pointing it out just right down the street, and my best friend Alice, who I met through it. I was pleasantly surprised to find that even he was human when he talked about all the things he would rather be doing with his life. I could sympathize with that. We laughed a lot. All in all, it was a pretty great morning. Eventually, he had to take a phone call, and said he had to run.

I stood up, brushing invisible dust off of my workout shorts. I really didn't want to tell him how badly I wanted to see him again. He probably had hundreds upon hundreds of _actual _models to spend time with.

And then, he stalked up right in front of me, our chests almost touching and his nose inches away from mine. I held my breath and clenched my hands, but I was already lost in his eyes.

"Can I see your phone for a second?" he asked innocently. I nodded in a daze, retrieving it from my sports bra. His eyes flashed down to it, and back up again so quickly I wasn't even sure it happened. He took it gingerly into his hands, and typed into it, before dropping it over my chest and letting it fall back down to its home.

"Call me next time you need to sweat all over someone," He said. Was that a compliment? Was he speaking english? Who knows. His lips were moving in a way that was too seductive and he was wrapping me up so tightly in his perfect, velvet voice that I couldn't breathe.

And then, before I knew it, he was walking away, and I was standing alone.

With his number wedged between my boobs.

I smiled to myself, watching his hair dance in the lazy breeze. This was going to be an interesting year.


End file.
